


Bloom

by let_me_wander



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_me_wander/pseuds/let_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were very few opportunities in life for a magic-user such as Merlin.  Fewer still were the opportunities for a penniless, orphaned child.  Even so, when his mother passed away and left her thirteen-year old son behind, he never imagined that he would one day be selling his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> I was procrastinating on essays and final projects and I ended up kinda experimenting with this fic. Meh. 
> 
> I originally intended for it to be much shorter, but it sort of just grew out of control. And it could have been even longer. But I still have final projects and other in-progress fics to work on, so we’ll leave it as is, yes?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

There were very few opportunities in life for a magic-user such as Merlin.  Fewer still were the opportunities for a penniless, orphaned child.  Even so, when his mother passed away and left her thirteen-year old son behind, he never imagined that he would one day be selling his body.

He sat, a boy of only seventeen, looking out at the open garden set right in the middle of the large establishment.  Of the two stories, he was lucky enough to have a room on the second that over-looked their tiny piece of paradise, autumn breeze wafting in.  Leaves fell slowly, one at a time from the lone tree in the center, reds and oranges passing in and out of golden sunlight.  No one noticed him there.  No one would, since it was midday.  Everyone else would be too busy snatching what sleep they could, before getting up and working late into the night.

Merlin’s long legs dangled from where he was perched on a window ledge.  He knew he should sleep now, since he would not be able to later.  But he just couldn’t bring himself to look away from the scene before him.  Why should he not enjoy the gifts of the day, simply because he was a man of the night?

Time passes quickly when you least want it to.  A few hours later, the other occupants begin to rise, in preparation for the first customers.  The place tidied itself, glowing red and yellow lanterns lit up seemingly on their own, though Merlin knew it all happened due to magic. 

The youngest, either illegitimate children who had been born in the brothel or orphans like Merlin had been, began preparations for the evening meal.  The working girls began to don their brightly colored dresses and to tighten each other’s corsets before doing their make-up; bright red lips, eyelids painted green and blue and purple, lash lines darkened with kohl.  The boys, Merlin included, changed into brightly-colored, eye-catching tunics, and breeches that clung indecently to their legs.

“All right my flowers, are you ready to bloom?”  Nimueh said this every night.  As the proprietress, she did not seem to think of her brothel so much as a brothel, but as a garden, an extension of the plant life growing in the heart of the building, and her whores were her flowers to be pruned and watered and plucked as she pleased.  But Merlin didn’t like the comparison.  What flower bloomed at night?

As soon as the sun set beyond the horizon, The Avalon was open for business.

Merlin’s favorite spot was the windowsill that directly over-looked the street.  He would sprawl across it lazily, and then some wandering fellow might glance up to see the pensive young man looking out into the night and step inside to inquire about the beautiful dark-haired man and how much would it cost for a night with him?

That was the unrealistic ideal, at least.  More often than not, Merlin got customers, already slightly (or more than slightly) inebriated, who wished to slake another kind of thirst or indulge in the guilty pleasure of being with another man, but they either did not care or did not notice that Merlin, himself, was never actually aroused.  Perhaps that way was better for all involved.

* * *

Winter came.  Despite the cold and gently falling snow, business at The Avalon did not suffer.  If anything, it became busier, as men wandering the streets at night sought a place to sleep and another body to warm them.

One night, one of their customers was a little too drunk and getting a little too rough with one of their girls, Sophia.  Merlin and another of the boys, Gilli, ended up being the ones trying to calm him down and send him on his way.  They had just gotten him outside, and were trying to convince the man to leave, when he suddenly lashed out and struck Merlin across the face.

Merlin fell to the ground, spinning from the blow.

It might have been because of the punch, or because of the fall, or because of any other reason, but it seemed to Merlin that the next few moments happened in a blur.  There were shouts.  A stranger stepped forward from the crowd and grabbed hold of the troublemaker, pulling him away.  Gilli crouched into Merlin’s field of vision, so that he could not see what was happening.  When Merlin finally cleared his head a bit and stood up, the drunken man had gone on his way and only the stranger was there, dressed in threadbare traveling clothes, but with deep brown eyes so steady, it was like they saw right into a person’s soul.

“Are you alright?” he asked Merlin.  He looked straight into his eyes.  His gaze did not wander to his lips or his body as though to inspect goods to be purchased, but looked at him as though he were a real person.  The stranger’s hand came up to caress his face, the gentle brush of his thumb against his cheek sending something like an electric shock through his body, and only then did Merlin realize that a bruise must already be forming on his face.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say.  “Though I don’t suppose I’ll get as many customers without my pretty face,” he tried to joke.

It was the wrong thing to say.  The stranger pulled his hand back immediately at those words, as if just now realizing what Merlin was.  Merlin found that he missed the contact, and it was the first time he ever found himself wanting to be touched by another man.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” said the traveler with the soulful eyes.

“Wait!” said Merlin, his hand shooting out to grab a bit of the man’s ragged sleeve.  “What’s your name?  Do you need a place to stay?  You look like you just got into town.” 

“Merlin!” Gilli hissed from behind him.

“It’s the least we can do, since he helped us,” Merlin argued.  “And anyway, it’s not like I’ll be getting as many customers with my face looking like this.”

The stranger was looking between the two.  After a moment, he said, “I am called Lancelot.  If you have room to spare, I can’t deny that I would be very grateful to have somewhere to take shelter in for the night.” 

“It would be my pleasure,” Merlin grinned.

Despite Gilli’s protests, Merlin led Lancelot back through The Avalon to the small, secret staircase that their customers rarely saw if they even knew it existed.  By that way, Merlin was able to sneak Lancelot up to his small room without anyone even knowing he was there.  Merlin had very little in the way of accommodations.  There was a large bed, which was the most important thing, and according to Nimueh, the only real necessity.  A small, worn wooden stand by the bed and an old lidded trunk were the only other pieces of furniture in the room.

“It’s not much, but you’ll be warm.”

“It is plenty.  Thank you for your generosity.”

Merlin smiled, though the action caused a twinge of pain in his face where he was hit.  But it was so rare to receive any word of thanks that he couldn’t help it.  He went to the trunk and pulled out his largest tunic.

“Here.  This may be a bit small, but it’s better than sleeping in dirty clothes.”

Lancelot removed his dirty, travel-worn shirt and Merlin’s eyes were drawn to the newly-revealed skin.  A well-muscled chest covered in dark hair, tanned skin that was marked with a scar here and there, perhaps all the more beautiful for its imperfections.  Merlin had seen his share of naked bodies, but none had ever seemed so handsome or attractive to him.

Merlin dropped the tunic he was about to offer Lancelot.  Slowly, he reached a hand out to press it against the other man’s chest, his fingers pressing into the firm muscle.  He had never wanted someone else before.  He wanted to know what it would feel like, for just one night, to be the one in control, to be the one to choose his bedmate.

Lancelot’s hand came up to grasp Merlin’s.  “Merlin, stop.  I can’t.”

Merlin looked up at the other man, who treated Merlin like he was a real person and not something to be bought, like Merlin _mattered._

“I want to,” Merlin whispered before leaning in to press a kiss to Lancelot’s jaw.

He gave in quickly, letting Merlin push him onto the bed, and helping to pull Merlin’s clothes off.  Merlin’s skin tingled where they touched.  Lancelot pressed inside of him slowly, not just fucking into him mindlessly, not simply using Merlin’s body for his own pleasure.  When Merlin came it was with a surprised shout, having never found his own release at the hands of another before.

And when Merlin fell asleep that night, tucked up against Lancelot’s side in bed, he thought that this might just be what love feels like.

He was pulled from sleep in a much less peaceful manner.  Nimueh was standing at the foot of his bed and screeching at him at the top of her lungs.  When Merlin looked around for Lancelot, he saw the man hurriedly pulling on his clothes and rushing out, leaving Merlin with barely a backwards glance.

Merlin had been a fool to think that Nimueh was not aware of everything that went on in The Avalon.  Of course she had found out about Lancelot.  She did not hit as hard as violent, drunk patrons, but Merlin still found himself with a bruise on the other side of his face to match the one he already had.  But magic could do incredible things, and Nimueh hated to lose business, and that was how Merlin was mostly healed by the time the sun was setting again.  What was still noticeable was easily covered with a bit of make-up that the girls helped him to apply.

Merlin was distracted, not even really thinking of his injury.  All he could think about was Lancelot.  Was he alright, wherever he was?  Was he thinking of Merlin?  Had he moved on already?  For the first time, Merlin was entertaining thoughts of running away.  If he could just slip away and find Lancelot, the two of them could leave together.  It didn’t matter where they went, anywhere would be better than The Avalon.  The important thing was that for once in his life, Merlin would not feel so utterly alone.  He began to plan and think about his future in a way he never had before.

That night, Merlin waited just outside of The Avalon under the guise of attracting customers, but he stayed hidden in the shadows enough that no one took much notice of him.  This gave him a perfect view looking out onto the street.  The lanterns were blue tonight, the light glinting of the snow in a way that made it look even colder.

But at least it wasn’t red tonight.  Merlin hated the red lanterns on snowy days; they made the world look like it was bathed in blood.

There were merchants peddling their goods, men drunk on ale and the company of friends or strangers, dirty beggars, wealthy nobles curious about how the other half lived, all these people were mixing together in a cacophony of sound and colors and shadows.  But in none of them did Merlin see who he was looking for.

Finally, just passed midnight, Merlin looked up to see a familiar pair of dark brown eyes.  He grinned and stepped forward from the shadows.

“You came back!” he said.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.  I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Merlin shook his head.  “It wasn’t anything I’m not used to.  But you left so quickly this morning, that I—“

“Yes, I felt it best that I not stick around, under the circumstances.  But before I left, I wanted to thank you… for giving me a place to stay.”

“You’re leaving?”  
  
“I never stay in one place long.  There is no where that I really belong.”

“Me too!” Merlin exclaimed, becoming excited.  “Because I have magic, I have never fit in anywhere, or found anywhere that would accept me.  Let me come with you.  I’ve never felt with anyone what I feel with you.  Let me come with you and that way neither of us will be alone.  Please!”

Lancelot took a step back.  “Merlin…”  An uncomfortable look crossed his face.  “I…”

Merlin, who had survived for as long as he had partly by reading people’s expressions and features, felt a cold wash of understanding run through him and clear his head.  His excitement was quickly forgotten. 

In retrospect, he wondered why he hadn’t realized sooner.  He had gotten so excited on his own, that he hadn’t stopped to think that Lancelot might not feel as he did.  In the way that people do not see what they do not want to see, Merlin had not seen that Lancelot had made love to him not so much out of mutual attraction but out of obligation and thanks for letting him have a place to stay.  In an odd twist, Lancelot was no different from Merlin, offering up his body for something in return.

But apparently he had been a better liar than Merlin ever was.

Merlin stepped away, back into the shadows.  “I see.  I’m sorry for presuming.  And for pushing myself on you last night.  That wasn’t my intention.”  The thought that he had used another person in the same way that he was used every night made him sick.  He forced a smile.  “I wish you well in your travels.”

Lancelot nodded.  Beautiful Lancelot, who gave himself to others in ways less obvious than simply selling his body.  “Be well, Merlin.”

Then Lancelot turned away and Merlin watched his silhouette disappear from the red lantern glow of The Avalon.

He never saw Lancelot again.

* * *

Merlin had learned his lesson from Lancelot.  A whore did not give their heart away to anyone, if only because no one cared much for any part of them outside of the bedroom.  The heart of one was pretty much worthless.

So Merlin kept his heart locked away; sometimes he wondered if he even still had one, he felt so empty most of the time.  Or at least he did until he met Gwaine.

He wasn’t in love with Gwaine.  Merlin was not in love with Gwaine and Gwaine made no pretense of being in love with Merlin.  But he made Merlin feel like he was actually a person again, and he was probably the closest thing to a friend that Merlin had ever had.

He came about once a week, whenever he’d managed to actually win something from his gambling.  His favorite was Elena, a girl with messy blond hair and a smile even sweeter than Merlin’s when something pleased her.  But one night, when Elena was already occupied, he looked around until his eyes settled on Merlin and he grinned the roguish grin that no one seemed able to resist.

“What’s your name, then?”

Merlin smiled his best sultry smile, knowing a customer when he saw one.  “You can have my body for a mere sum of money, but you can only get a name in exchange for a name.”

Gwaine laughed.  “You’re a funny one.  My name’s Gwaine.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Of course.”

“Then my name is Merlin.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Of course.”

Gwaine paid for a full night with Merlin up front, and so Merlin took him back to his room, using the grand, spiral staircase rather than the secret back staircase he had used almost a year ago when he took Lancelot to his bed.  His room was unchanged.  It did not need to change.  After all, the only thing he needed to perform his job was his bed.

But Gwaine didn’t get straight to business, the way most men did.  He flopped down casually across the blankets like he came by all the time, like he was an old friend rather than a client.  They chatted for a long time, with Gwaine doing most of the talking and Merlin doing the listening.  Merlin didn’t have much to tell and he didn’t think the life of a prostitute would make a very good story, but Gwaine had been on many a grand adventure, if you believed what he said.

It was only when Gwaine ran out of things to say that he pushed Merlin down into the blankets and pulled his breeches down to take his cock into his mouth.  He let Merlin come first.  Aside from when Lancelot stepped in between Merlin and the drunk man, it was probably the most gentlemanly thing anyone had ever done for Merlin.  In return, he let Gwaine fuck him several times over the course of the night.

When morning came, Gwaine pulled his trousers up and gave another signature grin.

“Merlin, huh?  I’ll remember you.”

And he did.  He always requested Merlin if Elena was unavailable, but never did anything or said anything to make Merlin feel like he was only second best.

When Elena eventually ran off with Gwaine, neither of them to be seen again, Merlin told himself he wasn’t jealous.  And he wasn’t, really.  He didn’t love Gwaine like Gwaine and Elena loved each other.  But he did wish there was someone who thought enough of him to sit and talk with him like Gwaine had, even if they would never care enough to take Merlin away from The Avalon.

So Merlin, now a young man of 19, sat at his windowsill in the early morning light and watched the last autumn leaves on the tree in the courtyard alight as though on fire, while down the hall he heard Nimueh screech and scream and hurl abuse at anyone who might have had anything to do with Elena’s escape.  Her magic allowed her to know what went on in The Avalon, but Merlin wondered sometimes how she could forget that she was not the only one with magic, and he was becoming more and more adept at concealing things from her as the years went by. 

* * *

Life in the brothel went on as usual.  It was summer now, and Merlin personally thought it was too hot for sex.  Who wanted to press themselves up against another hot, sticky body or exert any sort of energy in weather like this?  But apparently, the customers disagreed.

The lanterns were all bright yellow tonight, as if attempting to compete with the light of the full moon.  Merlin was perched in his window overlooking the road in front of The Avalon.  The laces of his tunic were completely undone in an attempt to cool down, revealing his collarbones and a few tufts of dark chest hair.  One leg dangled lazily from this sill, while the other was bent in order support his arm as he lazily fanned himself with a lacy fan that one of the girls had either lost or discarded.  Either way, finders keepers, Merlin thought as he tilted his head back to fan his face and neck.

He felt the weight of a gaze upon him and looked down into the crowd.  He found the watching pair of eyes easily enough, a lighter blue than his own shining through the darkness and belonging to a handsome blond man who was visibly cleaner than the others walking the street, and who carried himself with much more confidence and authority.  Perhaps he was the son of a merchant or a low-born noble, still arrogant enough to walk with a swagger in his step and not yet aware that the world would not always give him everything he wanted.

Merlin held the man’s gaze, raising an eyebrow and tilting the corner of his lips in something of a challenge.  _Think you can play with me?_ was the expression he had learned to convey with every inch of his body, both inviting and condescending.  The blond looked like he had money, so it was in Merlin’s best interest to catch his attention and keep it.

The blond scowled and turned away.

Oh well, Merlin thought.  It’s not like he was really in the mood to do anything anyway.  He went back to staring up at the night sky.  The moon was so bright.  He liked to think that, if he was a night flower, than obviously he would be at his best on the night of a full moon.

“Merlin!”  It was Freya calling him.  She had been born and raised in The Avalon and Merlin was quite fond of her; he had been doing his best to keep her working as a servant, but she was old enough now that Nimueh would probably start selling her soon.

“If the cook is wondering who ate the last piece of pie, it wasn’t me.”

Freya shook her head, dark hair swishing about her pale face.  “No, you have a customer!  I’ve never seen him before, but from the way Nimueh’s acting, he seems to be important.”

Merlin tilted his head.  “If he’s important, why does she want me?”

“Just come!”

Reluctantly, Merlin pulled his leg in and swung both over to jump from his perch and follow the girl down the stairs.  She opened the door from the hall for him, but did not follow.

Standing beside Nimueh was the blond man from before.  Merlin should have guessed.  Up close, he was even more handsome than Merlin had first assumed; his clothes were of fine quality, but well-worn enough that one didn’t notice unless they knew what to look for—the rich color of the fabric, the quality of the stitching—and he had a strong jaw, a straight nose, obviously from a good background.  Nimueh had an overly-familiar hand on his arm and a too-wide smile as she leaned in and spoke to him.

It looked like she was ready to jump in to bed with him herself.  What did she need Merlin for?

The blond noticed him before Nimueh did, though Merlin hadn’t been particularly quiet in his entrance.  Those blue eyes, bright as the sky at midday, locked onto his and he raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, a mimicry of Merlin’s earlier expression.

Merlin gave nothing away and looked, instead, to Nimueh.

“Merlin, darling, there you are!  How very rude of you to keep a guest waiting.”  She turned back to the blond.  “He is the one you wanted, yes?”

The blond smirked.  “He’ll do.”

He nodded his head.  “Right this way, sir.”  Even as he led the man to his room, Merlin began fuming silently on the inside.  Who was this man who thought he could talk about him as though he were not even there?  Or as though he was just a piece of merchandise?  He might have money, but he was Merlin’s least favorite sort of customer.  Even the drunks were better than the snobs.

The man did not speak as he followed Merlin through the halls, but he could feel his eyes boring into the back of his head.  He focused only on putting one foot in front of the other until he reached his room and opened the door for his client.

“This is a very small room, _Mer_ lin,” the man said as soon as the door was shut.

Merlin gritted his teeth.  “My apologies if it is not to your liking, sir.  But most of our guests require little aside from a bed.”

“True.  I suppose someone like you doesn’t need much, though I wonder if that’s true, considering the amount I paid for you.”

“If you came only to insult me, you can leave,” Merlin snapped before he could stop himself.  “And if you paid any large sum of money for me, than you have been cheated.  I suggest you demand a refund from Nimueh and get out of here.”

The man was silent for a moment.  “No, I suppose I don’t even need to insult you, since you are already so skilled at insulting yourself.”  He tilted his head.  “Why do you think you are worth so little?”

“If I was worth anything, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” he replied, glaring.

In that moment, the summer heat was stifling.  He could feel the body heat from the other man, even though he was several feet away.  His sweaty skin caused Merlin’s clothes to stick to him even more than they already did.  He brushed away strands of hair that were sticking to his forehead as he glared at his customer.

“And I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t worth anything.”

The reply caught Merlin completely off-guard.

“No one looks at me the way you did when I saw you in that window,” the blond said as he stalked closer.  “No one has ever so blatantly challenged me as you did with simply a look.  You captivated me before you even spoke a word.”

He pulled the tunic up, peeling it off Merlin’s body; Merlin let him.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asked as he pulled the shirt off the other man.

“Arthur,” he replied, and then all words were lost as he stepped forward to claim Merlin’s mouth in a blistering kiss.  Normally, Merlin would pull away when customers tried to kiss him, but for some reason he found himself giving in to this one.  Maybe it was because Arthur had bluntly announced his desire for Merlin and only Merlin, not for just anyone.  Somehow, there was nothing he could do, except to curl his arms up and around Arthur’s shoulders to hang on for dear life.

The kiss was just a hard press of lips at first, but soon became frantic, messy, open-mouthed and vulgar.  Arthur held the back of his neck and plundered Merlin’s mouth with his tongue, and Merlin surrendered to it.

After so long, Arthur broke the kiss and fell to his knees at Merlin’s feet, pulling at his breeches to reveal even more skin to the sultry night air.

“Merlin, Merlin,” he murmured as he kissed down his belly, his hands gripping Merlin’s thighs.  “I have to have you, Merlin.”

Merlin gasped and had trouble speaking as arousal swelled unexpectedly within him.  This felt right.  It felt inevitable.  “Then take me,” he managed at last.

Arthur stood up swiftly, picking Merlin up with ease in an impressive show of strength, and then depositing him in the middle of the bed, completely naked and letting his legs fall open.  Then he stepped back to remove his own breeches before climbing onto the bed to join the dark-haired man.  He kissed him again and again.

Merlin wondered hazily if perhaps Arthur had magic of his own to get Merlin to submit to him so quickly after he had been ready to refuse him entirely.

Arthur’s hand wandered down to feel him loose and already prepared, as Merlin was most nights since his customers didn’t often care to do it themselves.  Arthur growled as he felt two of his fingers breach him easily, and Merlin tried to turn over onto his knees, but Arthur stopped him.

“No, like this.  I’ll take you like this,” he murmured.

Merlin complied, another one of his unspoken rules disregarded without a thought.  All Merlin cared about was the feeling of this man over him, pressing into him, all around him.  Arthur was like a sun, and Merlin felt like he was on fire, to feel so close to someone that he might burn up in the heat of their body, but also like he might die if that fire were to go out. 

But maybe Merlin needed sun.  If he was a flower who had been shut away in the dark all this time, maybe this man was exactly what he needed.  What he wanted.  Desired.

When Merlin inevitably came it was with Arthur’s name on his lips.

Early the next morning, Merlin stretched lazily in his bed as he watched Arthur dress.  He couldn’t explain the strange urge within him to keep the blond man there with him, to curl around him in the bed until the sun was high, their sweaty skin sticking but neither of them really minding.

After Arthur had pulled on his clothes, with a small hopping performance to get into his breeches that had sent Merlin into a fit of giggles, he leaned over the bed.  Merlin wasn’t sure what he was doing and looked up at him warily. 

He brushed his fingers through Merlin’s dark locks, curling and sticking to his forehead with sweat, then leaned down to kiss him softly.  It was a kiss like none Merlin they had shared last night, sweet and chaste and more like a kiss between lovers than a whore and his client.

“I’ll be back,” Arthur said, voice no louder than a whisper that cut through the silence of the brothel nonetheless.

Merlin didn’t really believe him, but it seemed to complete the moment, make it seem like one of those perfect, fairytale moments that never actually happened.  Merlin wasn’t a princess locked away in a tower, and Arthur wasn’t going to ride in on a gallant steed to sweep him away.  But it was nice to pretend. 

* * *

 

A week later, Merlin was moved to a different room.

“This one is bigger, so you can entertain your clients properly,” Nimueh was saying.

Merlin looked around, not sure what to think.  This room had belonged to one of the previous courtesans, a pretty thing named Vivian, who had committed suicide a little more than a year ago, after the man she loved rejected her.  It had remained empty ever since. 

The bed was even larger than the one he had previously, with roses carved into the bed frame and a blanket of such fine quality that it didn’t feel scratchy to the touch.  It was a deep, blood red with gold accents.  The walls were wood paneled, as the majority of the building was, but over them hung tapestries depicting scenes of hunting and merry-making.  The small table beside the bed was similar to the one he’d had previously, but the chest of drawers, small vanity table with a real looking glass, and trunk at the foot of the bed were all of seemingly fine quality.  Against the wall was even a table with two chairs, as if he might sit and have a conversation with his clients.  Or maybe it was so they could bend him over it.

Either way, Merlin was suspicious.  “I don’t understand.  Why give this room to me now?”

“You have more important customers now, that’s why.”

He turned to face her abruptly.  “Are you talking about Arthur?”

“Arthur Pendragon, to be precise.”  She said his name with such glee that Merlin shivered.

“Who is he?”

“You need not concern yourself with who he is, only with keeping him satisfied.  He’ll be coming again tonight.  Don’t bother going out to the front, you can stay here.  Perhaps clean yourself up a bit.  There are some new clothes in the dresser for you as well; I suggest you make yourself as appealing as you can.”

Merlin pouted as she left him, the door locking audibly behind her.  She had basically confined him to this room as though he were a child.  Or a prisoner.  Somehow, he had always thought that having more important customers meant more freedom, not less.

He sighed and wandered over to do as she said, noticing the steaming pitcher of water next to a bowl with a small cloth.  He undressed, kicking his old clothes into a pile behind the dresser, and poured the hot water into the bowl, using the cloth to wipe down his body, rubbing away sweat and dirt and dust.  When he felt sufficiently clean, he opened the chest of drawers for his new clothes.  They weren’t hard to spot; there was only one set of clothes in there.  Brand-new, almost-black breeches that slid on easily and fit him like a second skin.  A tunic that fit close around the waist, but flared at the sleeves, in a deep blue color that complimented his eyes.  As usual, he wasn’t given any boots; both because he didn’t usually go outside, and to prevent him from trying to escape in the future.

The rest of the dresser drawers proved to be empty.  He decided to explore the vanity table.  He sat at the little stool and regarded himself in the looking glass.  He was attractive enough for a prostitute, he supposed, but he wouldn’t particularly call himself handsome.  He was too thin, his hair too messy, and more than one person had joked about the size of his ears.  He peeked inside the vanity drawers.  To his surprise, they were full of bits and bobs, make up and hair pieces.  They must not have cleaned it out after Vivian died.

He pulled out various powders and pigments.  A little black stick, charred at the tip, was for lining the eyes.  He had seen the girls do their make up often enough to know what everything was, and Elena had once lined his eyes for him, before she ran away.

He took the stick in his own hand now, bringing it up to line his own eyes.  His hand shook though, and he wasn’t used to bringing anything so near his eyes.  The line was shaky and looked horrible.  He wiped it off.  Putting make up on was harder than it looked.

“If I wanted a girl, I would have asked for a girl, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin spun around so fast that he nearly fell of the stool.

“I was hoping to disguise myself so perhaps you wouldn’t find me,” he retorted, thinking fast.

Arthur laughed.  “Not likely.  Come here.”

Merlin rose and went to him, letting him wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist.

“You have a new room.”

“Yes, Nimueh must have heard that you disliked the size of my old room, and apparently you’re someone important, so your opinion actually matters.”

“Do you like it?”

Merlin shrugged, wondering why Arthur was bothering to make conversation.  “It makes no difference to me.  Even if a bird gets a larger cage, it still won’t be able to fly.”

“Very poetic.  Are you a bird?”

Merlin smiled a secret sort of smile.  “No.  I’m a flower.”

“I thought you weren’t a girl.”

“Flowers can be very masculine, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Arthur grinned.  “What about the vanity and dresser then?  It must be nice to have more furniture, more space for your things.”

Merlin smirked.  “The dresser is empty, and the vanity drawers are filled with the belongings of a dead woman.”

Arthur’s grin faltered.  “You’re very direct, aren’t you?”

“Why pretend there is something more when there is not?  I hate liars and I hate pretenders.”

“And you hate me.”

Merlin looked at him for a moment, head cocked to the side.  “I don’t hate you.  I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you.  You said you would be back, and you are.  You haven’t lied to me yet.”

Arthur didn’t reply, opting instead to push Merlin down onto the bed.

The next morning, when Arthur kissed him softly and whispered, “I’ll be back,” this time Merlin believed him.

* * *

Arthur Pendragon became a fairly frequent customer, usually visiting the brothel at least one night every week or so.  Sometimes he met Merlin in his room and they spent the whole night tangled in the sheets together.  Sometimes he stayed with Merlin down below in the tavern to order drinks and enjoy the bustle and busy night life, laughing with other patrons over a tankard of ale or joining in the betting and games.

One night, Arthur came with a group of friends, all strong, handsome men like Arthur, and Merlin wondered if Arthur was perhaps a knight—at the very least, he was a noble, and not a merchant like Merlin might previously thought.  Arthur was sitting around a table and laughing with them, all good friends by the look of them, when Merlin was summoned.

“Ah, here is my darling!” Arthur exclaimed, standing to sweep into a bow and bring Merlin’s knuckles to his lips.  He had obviously been drinking a bit.

“For someone who claims he doesn’t want one of the girls, you certainly enjoy treating me like one.”

The other men around the table laughed boisterously and Merlin felt a twinge of worry that perhaps he shouldn’t have teased Arthur in front of his friends, but Arthur was looking at him with a fond, proud smile, as if that was exactly the sort of reaction he wanted.

Arthur seated himself again and pulled Merlin onto his lap, which was where he remained well into the night, as Arthur talked and laughed with his friends about people and places Merlin didn’t know.  He might have thought that Arthur had forgotten he was there entirely, if not for the slow rubbing of a thumb against his hip.

* * *

About four months after their first meeting, there was an incident.

Merlin saw other clients, though they were not the same sort of rabble and drunk men he serviced before.  Now he was bedded by merchants, traders, and low-ranking members of nobility.  He had somehow become a courtesan, not because he was more beautiful or more skilled in bed, but because he was more expensive.

Early one evening, a dark, greasy-haired man was brought to his room.  “Cenred,” was the name he gave, along with a crooked smile.  Everything was going along smoothly until Cenred discovered that Merlin had not prepared himself.  Instead of slicking him up, or even waiting for Merlin to prepare himself, he gave a feral grin and held Merlin down as he fucked him dry.  Merlin’s screams seemed to please him as much as moans of pleasure encouraged other men.

He didn’t stay after he came inside of Merlin.  He simply stood and redressed himself as Merlin lay trembling and bleeding on the bed.

Freya came in quietly after Cenred had left, saying nothing, but tucking the covers around him securely and bringing him a cup of wine, a rare treat.  There was no point in cleaning the wound.  Nimueh was probably already aware of what had transpired, and her magic would work to heal the injury in time for Merlin to be ready to work the next night, though he would obviously not be taking any more customers that night.

Freya slipped out as quietly as she had come in, and Merlin thought he would be left to rest.  This was not so, as moments later, there was a loud commotion out in the hallway, and suddenly his door slammed open, causing Merlin to flinch and look up.

Arthur was standing in the doorway, Nimueh just behind him, entreating him to try one of the other boys that night, but he ignored her, his expression strained as he stalked towards Merlin’s bed and pulled the covers from him.  Merlin tried to curl in on himself, but there was no way to hide the blood and semen that was still streaked across his thighs.

Arthur expression turned so dark that Merlin was afraid he might be hit or punished in some way because he had allowed himself to be hurt and would not be available for Arthur that night.  Merlin curled up even tighter with an involuntary whimper.

Arthur’s features softened and the expected blow never came.  Instead, he ran a hand through Merlin’s hair just once before gently pulling the covers back up and leaving the room again.  Merlin didn’t know what that meant.

Perhaps half an hour later, the blond returned again, alone this time.  He climbed into the bed, fully clothed behind Merlin’s naked body.

“Arthur—“

“Shh,” Arthur interrupted him.  “I won’t do anything.  Just let me hold you like this.”

Merlin couldn’t think of any real reason why Arthur couldn’t, so he went limp, allowing Arthur to pull Merlin’s body back against his chest and rub at his belly soothingly.

After a while, the slight trembling of his body subsided and Merlin focused solely on the pleasant feeling of Arthur’s calloused fingers and the warmth of his body.  He began to doze, slipping in and out of consciousness.  So when Arthur spoke, he didn’t quite hear the first time.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Hm?”

“No man will ever hurt you again, Merlin.  I promise.”

“And how are you going to keep such a promise?” Merlin murmured sleepily.

“I’m making you exclusively mine.”

Merlin blinked awake a bit more.  “What?”

“I’ve told Nimueh not to let you see any one else but me.  I’ll pay for every night, whether I’m actually here or not.”

Merlin should have been happy.  Relieved.  Something.  Instead, he was angry for reasons he couldn’t understand himself.  He sat up in bed to turn around and face the other man.

“I don’t need your pity, Arthur.  And I don't need your money!  Believe it or not, I can take care of myself.  I’ve done so for twenty years now, I think I know what I’m doing!”

Arthur’s brows furrowed in confusion.  “It’s not out of pity.  I just wanted to help you.”

“Well I don’t need your help.”

Merlin pushed himself out of the bed, intending to dress and leave the room or maybe show Arthur out, but walking brought on a renewed bout of pain and he crumpled to the floor.

“Merlin!”

Arthur was at his side in an instant.

Merlin pushed helplessly at Arthur’s broad frame.  “I’m fine, I’m fine!  I don’t need you!” he insisted.  But even as he tried to pull away from the other man and put up a strong, angry exterior, tears began to fall from his eyes.  “I don’t!  I don’t need anybody!”

Arthur hushed him gently and held him as he began to sob in earnest, shaking apart in Arthur’s arms.

“Maybe you don’t need me,” he whispered into Merlin’s hair, though they both knew it was a lie.  “But I need you.  That’s why I made you exclusive.  It kills me to think of you with other men, kissing them, sleeping with them.”

Merlin sniffled.  “I’ve never kissed another man.”

Arthur stilled.  “Never?”

Merlin shook his head.  “Gods, look at me.  I’m pathetic.”

He didn’t look up until Arthur’s hand under his chin forced him to meet his eyes.  Those sky-blue eyes, bright cerulean gems, looked into his own eyes the shade of the night sky, and he must have seen the something there that Merlin was too afraid to acknowledge, because he leaned in and kissed him.  Merlin allowed himself to be picked up and cradled as Arthur carefully tucked them both back into the bed, face to face this time.

“Have you ever tried to run away, Merlin?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no where else for me to go.  Even if I left, I would only end up back here or in some place equally as horrible, but with people I don’t know.  At least here is familiar to me.”

“But couldn’t you find work at an inn?  Or on a farm?”

Merlin smiled sadly.  Here it was, the moment he somehow knew he’d have to face and had been dreading since Arthur had returned to see him that first time.  “No.  I tried once.  But inevitably they always send me away.”

“Why?”

Merlin closed his eyes.  “Because I have magic.”

The silence that followed was so loud that Merlin wondered how it could even be considered silence.  It rang out as clear as a morning bell or a dinner chime or the orange tomcat that wandered the rooftop and yowled in the nighttime.

“Show me.”

Merlin’s eyes shot open, certain that he heard wrong.  But Arthur’s gaze was steady and clear as he looked at Merlin.

“Show me,” he repeated.

Merlin slowly and hesitantly took Arthur’s hand and cupped it in his own.  When he moved his hand away, there was a small little rose bud in Arthur’s palm.  Arthur held it gently, looking at it with wonder.  But not a trace of fear.

“Beautiful…” he murmured, even as his eyes lifted from the rose to Merlin.  “I knew there was something about you, Merlin.  But I could never put my finger on what it was.”

Merlin scooted forward, pressing up against Arthur and burying his face against Arthur’s chest.

“You’re not scared?  Or angry?” 

His words were muffled, but Arthur heard them anyway.

“No.”  He pressed a kiss into Merlin’s hair and wrapped his arms around him more snugly.  “Sleep, Merlin.  You’re exhausted, I can tell.”

Merlin couldn’t argue with him on that point.  His eyelids grew heavy and slid shut, his breathing evened out, and soon he fell asleep listening to the steady beat of Arthur’s heart.

* * *

Summer was gone.  Autumn passed.  Then winter.  Arthur came to visit once or twice a week, sometimes more if he could get away with it.  Merlin still didn’t know who he was outside of the brothel, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Merlin was happier than he could remember ever being.

Of course, things couldn’t remain as they were.  One day in spring, Merlin was practicing making flowers bloom in his room.  By the time Arthur arrived that night, his dresser and vanity was overflowing with roses of every shade and color.

And of course, Arthur teased him mercilessly.

“Only a girl would want their room covered in flowers, _Mer_ lin.”

“Don’t be such a prat!  I was practicing… I just got a little carried away, and I haven’t figured out how to make them vanish yet.”

When Arthur pushed Merlin into the bed, it sent up a cloud of petals that then drifted and relocated around Merlin’s splayed form.  Almost as if it had been done on purpose, a few snowy white and pale yellow petals settled gently against his raven-dark hair and a single, blood red petal landed in the curve of his collarbone, contrasting with his pale skin.

“By the gods, you’re gorgeous,” Arthur whispered as he settled above him, supporting his weight with his arms.

“You don’t need to compliment me,” Merlin said as he wriggled his hips.  “You already know I want you to fuck me.”  And it was true, the evidence hard and upright against Arthur’s thigh.

“That’s not why I said that,” he replied.

Before Merlin could argue back, Arthur silenced him with a hungry kiss.  He pressed insistently at Merlin until he was granted access to his mouth.  Then he started trailing down to lick and suck and nibble on the pale stretch of neck that Merlin offered to him while he pushed up one of Merlin’s legs and began to let his hands wander.

Merlin moaned his approval as two oiled fingers began sliding in and out, gently massaging him open.

“So beautiful Merlin,” he whispered nonsensically.  “And mine, only mine.”

Merlin wrapped his legs around Arthur’s hips when he began to drive into him, thrusting slowly at first, but then faster as he found that special spot that had Merlin shouting and chanting his name over and over again.  Merlin came first and he spilled onto both of them.  Arthur came soon after, staying inside until he knew Merlin was completely full of his come.

Merlin closed his eyes as he waited for his breathing to slow and his heart rate to return to normal.  He didn’t bother to get beneath the covers since they would most likely be going another round in a moment.  He felt something gently brush through his hair and opened his eyes to watch as Arthur plucked out petals that had gotten tangled up in his dark locks while they’d had sex.

He was content to let Arthur do as he pleased and settled down to wait.

“Do you love me, Merlin?”

It was spoken softly, but there was no way Merlin could have missed it.  He sat up in the bed, looking anywhere but at Arthur.

“Do you?” Arthur continued insistently.

“Don’t do this to me, Arthur,” he whispered.

“I need to know.”

“I can’t.”  Merlin felt like he might cry, all peaceful feelings from before vanished before the dreaded four-letter word.  “I’m just a… just a whore!  I don’t have the freedom to love.  If I love, I’ll die.  Already I give away my body, if I give my heart too, I’ll have nothing left.”

“You’re not just a whore,” Arthur insisted.

“Yet you still pay for me,” countered Merlin.

Arthur sighed.  He got up and went around the bed to stand in front of Merlin, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me Merlin.”  When he did nothing, Arthur grabbed his face in his hands and forced him to look up.  “Look at me, please.” 

Reluctantly, Merlin did so.

“That’s not what love is.  I’m not asking you to give me your heart for nothing.  I’m asking you if you’ll accept mine.  You wouldn’t be left with nothing if you received my heart in exchange.”

Merlin said nothing.

“Don’t you understand?  I love you, Merlin!  I think I fell in love with you the day I first saw you up in that window.  You looked like you had not a care for the people, looking up into the sky like you would fly away.  But you didn’t.  You looked down, right at me.”

Merlin’s eyes watered with tears that Arthur brushed away gently with his thumb.

“Come away with me, Merlin.”  He whispered now.  There were no secrets in The Avalon, but Merlin would make sure that at least these secrets, these words, would not reach Nimueh’s ears until it was too late.

He recalled a time, years ago, when he had met another man, dark and dirty and the complete opposite of bright, golden Arthur.  And he had thought those same thoughts, had thought that he might run away finally, to find something better for himself.  After that dream had shattered so perfectly, he had not dared to think of it again.  But now…  Did he dare hope now?

“You…”  His voice trembled, but it didn’t matter.  “You would really want me?  Is there even a place for me, in that world you return to when you’re not here?  I don’t know anything about you.  I don’t know anything about the world beyond The Avalon.”

“I will make a place for you.  I have the power to do that.  I’ll keep you safe.  And happy.  I promise!”

Things like this didn’t happen to Merlin.  Poor little Merlin, who had arrived at The Avalon when he was only thirteen, orphaned and alone, who hadn’t know anything but poverty and prostitution ever since.  He didn’t live in a fairytale, and knights in shining armor didn’t come to sweep him off his feet.

He found himself nodding and smiling through his tears anyway.

Arthur pounced on him and couldn’t stop kissing him long enough for either of them to breathe, but they weren’t thinking about things like breathing.

And in the morning, Arthur didn’t need to kiss Merlin good bye or whisper “I’ll be back,” because this time Merlin left with Arthur.

And Merlin, though he left Nimueh’s garden, was free to live and bloom in the sunlight.


End file.
